


h-town vicious

by c0mingofage



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Basketball, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Ben is a Houston Rocket, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Rey is an actress, author knows nothing about basketball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24861196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0mingofage/pseuds/c0mingofage
Summary: The sharks could smell blood.Even in the room, you could feel it, this sense that the media wasn’t in on a very important joke. It was the soundbite that launched a thousand headlines, and a few hours after, ESPN published a story, "Rockets, flying past the Lakers" but over at UsWeekly, it was "Is Ben Solo dating Rey Johnson? Inside the Rocket’s lusty romance with Hollywood’s new It Girl!"
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 9
Kudos: 92





	1. #12 Houston Trill

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first fic. Please, be kind.

The ball was in Solo’s hands. 

The Lakers’ infamous rookie, number 21, Finn Storm was on him, arms low and hands heavy on the three-point line. LA was up by one on game six, and the crowd was going nuts. They only needed one more win to advance, but that wasn’t going to happen. Solo hit him with a hesitation dribble on the left and spun to the right on Storm’s weak side. The LA center moved to block his line to the net, only for Solo to smirk, push off the free-throw line and shoot a three right there. 

Storm didn't even get the chance to jump. 

Staples Center exploded with red. 

Houston was going to the Finals. 

Later, pundits would say that someone should give a Purple Heart to Storm, who had to guard Solo for most of the Western games. But even in defeat Storm was gracious, telling reporters, “If there’s anyone we should lose to, it’s Ben Solo.”

There’s a photo of Ben from that night, hands on his knees in the middle of the court, mouth tucked under his jersey. He was dripping with sweat but his eyes blazed like a lion on the hunt, staring at some unknown target. ESPN had it on their home, and basketball Twitter gobbled it up. 

“Who pissed him off before the game?” one tweet asked. 

“He can do anything to my body and I’d thank him for it,” another said. 

That same photo made it to Beyonce’s Instagram feed. She captioned it _#12 Houston Trill_ . _We flying Solo._ She had been there, courtside with Hov. A few seats down, Justin Timberlake sat with his wife, Jessica Biel. The night after the game, Justin was on Colbert’s couch and called Solo “that undefeatable asshole.” The list, the A-list, went on and on. Solo’s parents even made an appearance. Secretary of State Leia Organa-Solo traded in her power suit for her son’s jersey, next to her was Hall of Famer Han Solo, who shot up on his weak knees to cheer every single time Ben made the net. Jack Nicholson had shown up with his son. Denzel Washington was there, sitting with Adam Sandler and Matthew McConaughey. Supermodels were in the stadium, the Hadid sisters with a couple of other Angels.

Rey Johnson, who had taken Hollywood by storm last year as the youngest actress ever to get an Oscar nomination, wrenching the title from Jennifer Lawrence at just 19 years old, sat with Storm’s boyfriend, musician Poe Dameron. She shared some attention with Solo that night. She’d spent her 20th birthday at Staples Center, showed up with the ugliest bright pink feather boa anyone could ever imagine, wore a BIRTHDAY GIRL cropped shirt, the works. 

At the press conference after the game, a CNN reporter brought it up. “Rey Johnson, she was on the stands tonight. Did you see her?”

The Houston point guard Armitage Hux, lovingly called The Arm by fans for his lethal elbow, started laughing. “Everyone could. Isn’t that right, Solo?”

Ben side-eyed his teammate and cameras started flashing.

The sharks could smell blood.

Even in the room, you could feel it, this sense that the media wasn’t in on a very important joke. It was the soundbite that launched a thousand headlines, and a few hours after, ESPN published a story, _Rockets, flying past the Lakers._ Over at UsWeekly, however, it was _Is Ben Solo dating Rey Johnson? Inside the Rocket’s lusty romance with Hollywood’s new It Girl!_

* * *

“Do you know Ben Solo?”

Rey looked up from her cereal to give her best friend and publicist Rose Tico a decidedly unimpressed look. “Of course I know Ben Solo. Everyone knows Ben Solo. Do you know the Queen?”

Rose smiled. She had a bare face today, came fresh off of a yoga class before driving to Rey’s Mediterranean style rental in Hollywood Hills. “Have you checked Twitter?”

“No, why?” she asked, taking a heaping spoonful of Froot Loops.

“Ah, well,” Rose began typing something on her phone, “E! Is asking for a response about these rumors that you’re dating him.”

“ _Ben Solo_?”

Rose looked up at her with this expression, like she was a puzzle that needed to be decoded. As if Rey wouldn’t be the type to blab to one of her closest friends if she were dating this generation’s most popular basketball player, which in all honesty, she totally was. “Yeah, are you?”

“Rose, you’re constantly in my house,” Rey answered with her mouth full, waving a spoon around her kitchen, which still had the pink decorations from her birthday party last night. It was a small party, just the inner circle, the Tico sisters, Dameron and Finn, Zori and Jyn, but they still managed to get silly string all over the ceiling. “How could you miss a 6”8 Texan walking around here with a post-coital glow?”

Rose quirked an eyebrow, “That’s a very specific statement. Thought about post-coital Ben Solo a lot?”

“I’ve never met him, why would the press say this shit? I’ve never met the bloke.”

“Some Rocket made an off-hand comment at a press con,” Rose looked down on her phone, “Here, I’m sending you a link.”

Rey’s phone pinged on the kitchen counter. She swiped the notification open. It was an article from UsWeekly with a headline that was begging for a pretty major eye roll. _Lusty_? She thought, incredulously. She gave the article a quick read, anyway. Basketball icon something something something, a talented actress from across the pond whatever whatever whatever, a secret romance that’s going on for months according to sources close to the blah blah blah.

At the bottom of the page, there was a graphics-heavy snippet from the Rocket’s press conference the night before. There were three men on the dais. Luke Skywalker, their coach, Ben Solo, and Armitage Hux, whose bright red hair she recognized from having seen so much of it the night before. He was laughing at a reporter who had asked if they’d seen Rey on the stands. 

“Everyone could,” he said, mirth positively shooting out of his eyes, “Isn’t that right, Solo?”

The man in question looked positively murderous. He was a good-looking bloke, Ben Solo. Thick hair, abnormally large body. Rey could see just how ripped he was, even underneath his sports jacket. She’d watched him run up and down the court last night and would be lying if she said he didn’t interest her even a little bit. But she never did go for his make. Tall, large ego, philandering types were never on her radar. Her last boyfriend was a chubby thing with major insecurity issues, dated him for a couple of years but split when she made the move to Hollywood. He was a comedian who still used their relationship as part of his bit. Unkar Plutt. Even his name was funnier than he was. Asshole. 

Rey looked up from her phone, confused. “What the hell does that mean? How does that translate to me dating anyone? Have people seen photos of me last night? I looked bloody amazing.”

Rose chuckled, “That you did.”

“If anything, I’m offended at how hard that ginger was laughing. Was he fucking with me?”

“I think Solo might have a little thing for you,” Rose said, sounding so sure. “But then again, I don’t do boy talk.”

“There’s no such thing,” Rey turned her back on her cereal, rapidly becoming soggy at her disregard. 

  
“So what should we tell them ‘These rumors are unfounded. Ben is in no way walking around Rey’s house with a magical glow’?”

“A post-coital glow,” Rey says, making her friend laugh, “Although, magical works too. No, just don’t say anything, maybe? It’s none of their bloody business anyway.”

“Yeah, it’ll fizzle out. Unless he blows it up with his big ass mouth.”

Rey’s front door slams shut and she’s out of her seat in an instant, grabbing a knife out of instinct from the counter. She’s had people trying to break in before. Rose stayed put, taking a sip out of her chamomile tea. 

Holdo’s Louboutin’s were ringing off Rey’s ceramic floor. She made an appearance not long after, her long purple hair flowing past her shoulders. She was wearing a killer Fendi minidress that showed off what the doctor gave her.

Rey dropped the knife into the light pink sink.

Her heart was pumping so loudly in her chest, but she tried not to let it show. It took every ounce of her RADA-trained ass to affect a bored expression. “Any word from Greta, love?”

“None yet,” she walked towards Rey to plant a kiss on her cheek. Holdo had her arms wrapped around what appeared to be a pile of scripts. “Got a call from Columbia, they just locked Timmy for Laurie. I think one of the Emmas is gunning for your part.”

Rey reclaimed her seat on the marble counter. Her Froot Loops were over, but she set on finishing them anyway. Old habits dying hard and all that. “Roberts?” 

“Stone, honey,” Holdo’s deep voice wrapped an apology around the words.

“Fuck’s sake,” Rose said. “That’s over.”

Rey couldn’t find it in her to be disappointed, so distracted by her act of ennui. 

“I might have something from Elizabeth. She’s working on that Charlie’s Angels reboot and wants you to come in for a reading. Say, next week? Wednesday?”

“Have they got a script yet?”

“Still in the works, but they have some pages for you to look over if you’re interested,” Holdo took a softbound document from her pile and slid it over to Rey. 

“I’ll read it, get back to you on the schedule.”

“Got it,” Holdo held up a thick script. “Michôd has a one for a period piece. He’s working with Netflix?”

“No more corsets for the time being,” Rose answered for Rey, without looking up from her phone. She was typing something again. 

“Good, it’s a little part anyway.”

“Wait, the one Robert and Tim?” Rey asked.

Holdo’s glossy lips turned up into a smile, “Just assume every project might have Timothée attached, honey. He’s hot shit right now.”

She arranged the rest of her pile into two neat piles, one thicker than the other. “Two more things and I’m out of here.”

“Stay as long as you like, Ami,” Rey said, kindly.

Holdo had a calming, nurturing presence about her, in spite of the diverting Hollywood-mandated plastic surgery, and Rey felt the last vestiges of her anxiety leave her body just by being around her feisty agent. Holdo was the one who courted Rey to come to the United States. She'd made a name for herself finding diamonds in the rough and worked with some of Hollywood’s best up and coming talents, Poe Dameron included. 

“No, I have a 3 PM with my eyebrow girl.” She pointed to the first scrap of paper. “First, Ben Solo. What’s happening?”

Rose snorted, “According to my sources, they’re apparently not fucking.”

“No? Girl, get on that. I’ve heard some things about that man,” Holdo said, flipping her hair over her shoulders.

“What things?”

“Big dick things,” Rose began to giggle, “I think he was piping a Jenner, I forget if it’s Kylie or Kendall, one of those two and you know how those bitches work. I heard all about his cock at Chateau Marmont from one of Lance’s assistants. The way they spoke about him, Jesus Christ.”

“Never met him,” Rey repeated. Her thoughts went straight to an image of Solo naked. It was easy enough to imagine. 

“Do you want to?” Holdo slid another piece of paper towards her, “His info. Number, email, agent, everything you need.”

“Are you bloody kidding?” 

Rose reached over to swipe the paper off the counter. She was taking a photo of it before Rey could say anything. 

“You know me. Always anticipating your needs,” Holdo grinned, looking a little evil. 

“Not sure if I want to touch Jenner hand-me-downs,” Rey said.

“It’s all rumors, baby, maybe you can get the chance to ask him yourself?”

“Hmm,” _something to think about later_ , “The other thing?”

“Ah,” Holdo opens the flap to a thick stack of papers held together by black binder clips, “A Sylvia Plath biopic-ish. It’s still hush-hush. Sony is producing, landed on my desk this morning. Kaydel Ko Connix has signed on as director and apparently, you’re her first choice. No audition needed, she wants you to come in for a meeting this Thursday. Are you in?”

Rey looked at her, suspiciously, “Why didn’t you lead with this?”

“Save the best for last.”

“What does biopic-ish mean?” Rose asked. 

Holdo pointed to the name on the title page. _Sylvia, screenplay by Maz Kanata_. Maz once called Diablo Cody “the daughter I wish I had.”

“I expect this to be a little more snappy than the dear departed,” Holdo quipped. 

Rey asked if she could read the script first before making a decision, but the purple-haired woman waved her off. “You can, I’ll set up the meeting anyway. This is a big deal. I can smell your first Oscar.”

Holdo made her exit not long after, claiming she still had to drive to Inglewood for her brow appointment. She gave her girls a kiss each and sauntered off. 

Rose poured herself another cup of tea, “So, should I find out where Ben Solo is celebrating his big win?”

Rey reached for _Sylvia_ , unlatching the clips. “Another time. I’m busy tonight.”  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. That was that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey makes the first move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little warning: Ben has a sexual encounter with a woman who is not Rey in the beginning of this chapter.

Of course, Ben had seen her.

The pink boa made her hard to miss, but by that time she’d made it to Staples Center, he was convinced that he could recognize her anywhere.

Maybe two years ago, he had flown from Houston to Charlottesville and from there had driven to DC with his father and Luke to visit Leia in The Capitol. Drove 2 hours with change, all because Han refused to go anywhere without his beloved 1966 GT 350, which had been on loan to his other uncle, Lando Calrissian, in Virginia. They made Ben’s security fly back to Texas to draw less attention, but he wore a baseball cap over his head anyway. 

When they arrived in DC, Leia’s assistant Threepio called and said she was going to be late for a couple of hours. Nothin’ new. Something about Russia and the White House, Ben didn’t really pay attention. He sat at the stoop of their townhouse, smoking a cigarette, which Luke unsuccessfully tried to make him put out. Always the coach, his uncle. 

“Wanna see a movie while we wait for her, kid?” Han asked like his son wasn’t a grown man at 27. It used to grate at Ben and they had a rough go at it when he was a teenager, but as time passed and more lines began to appear on his father’s face, he secretly began to like it.

“Oh yes,” Luke answered for her. “There’s a new heist movie out, right?”

“There’s two,” Ben said. His family spoke in two languages: basketball and action movies. 

In the end, they chose the new Steven Soderbergh fare. After a quick shower, they were back in the car to go to the theater. Luke wouldn’t shut up about how the man with the stump looked exactly like Ben. He would have tried to make an argument about it, but there she was. _The girl_.

She was tall and lean, and had a face that made his heart stop. He hadn’t felt that way about a movie star since Famke Janssen was Xenia Onatopp in GoldenEye. It was the softly upturned eyes, the wide mouth. In the movie, she drove fast cars and spoke with a West Virginia accent. Jesus Christ. He was a goner and he didn’t know her name until the credits. Rey Johnson. 

When he looked her up on Instagram after the movie, he found out that she had dyed her hair for the movie. In reality, she was a brunette. A Solo man’s greatest weakness, his father said when Ben told him and Luke about Rey on the way to the Italian restaurant where they were supposed to meet Leia. 

“She was pretty, wasn’t she, Benny?” Luke said, sounding amused.

“Yeah, she was good lookin’. I liked her,” he said.

“Well, with what Snoke’s payin’ you, you could probably impress her,” Han said, his Texas twang coming in hot. “She don’t look like a girl who’ll go for a broke ass bumpkin.” 

His father was an NBA Hall of Famer, his mother a respected politician. Ben never did a day’s worth of hard labor in his entire life, but Han always said shit like that. You know what they say, you can take the kid out of Fifth Ward, etc.

Luke laughed and threw Ben a look from shotgun, “The fact that you’re a good boy when you’re not being an asshole is probably something too. Food for thought.”

So, he had a little crush. His only mistake was that he wasn’t subtle about it. 

Luke was a blabbermouth, always was, always will be. First, he told Westbrook, who was also a blabbermouth. Harden caught wind of it in the locker room and well, Ben loved his teammates but they can be a real pain in the ass. When Hux started making puns about the girl Ben wanted to stick his johnson into, it was over. 

It was a surprise they kept it within Toyota for so long.

After game six, the guys went to Vegas to celebrate. They got a suite at the Bellagio and drowned in a sea of tits and vodka. Hux and some of the guys gambled until 5 in the morning, but Ben stayed behind in the hotel, thinking about Rey’s brown eyes as he fucked a brunette flight attendant he met at the hotel bar whose name was Bessie. He made it a point to at least know their names, because his Momma raised him right. He poured his cum down the bathroom sink and drank two glasses of water before he passed out.

Ben woke up the next morning to fifteen missed calls from the team’s publicist Phasma, and Bessie’s mouth on his cock. With one hand, he reached for his phone, the other, he wrapped with Bessie’s hair. 

“Suck harder, little girl,” he said, his voice still raspy from sleep. She was beautiful in the morning light and he marveled at the sight of her body. Her tits were fake, but they were tasteful. He wished he could remember something from their conversation the night before but he couldn’t. He’d been too drunk. 

Bessie moaned around him and did as he asked. 

His phone started buzzing in the middle of this world-class blowjob and he answered, which offended the girl on her knees between his legs. She gave him a look full of disdain and rolled on out of bed. He couldn’t blame her and didn’t stop her when she made her way to the bathroom. 

The shower turned on after a second. 

“Hello?” 

“Ben?” Phasma was saying. She sounded upset, but she always sounded like that when she was talking to him. He could sympathize. He knew he was a difficult client. “Where the hell have you been all night?”

“None of your business. What’s going on?”

“You need to stop getting your dick wet all the time is what’s going on. It’s becoming a real problem in my life. Have you looked at Twitter this morning?”

“Phas, I literally just woke up. Fill me in,” he hated it when she’d set up these traps. Phasma liked her games. 

“Are you dating Rey Johnson? You know you have to fill me in on these things. You can’t leave me in the dark, it puts us both in very difficult situations. I can’t handle something that you don’t tell me about.”

He began to laugh. The ridiculousness of it all. He couldn’t even say Rey Johnson’s name without turning beet red. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Ben, there are hundreds of articles about this online. You should have told me, we could have controlled this story. Now it’s out like wildfire! Wendy Williams going to town on your ass this afternoon. Wendy Williams!”

“Phas, I’m sorry, okay?” he began.

“You should be!” she said, nearly screaming. He fought the urge to laugh again. 

He continued, “But I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about. I’m not even close to dating Rey Johnson. I’ve never even met Rey Johnson.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. She was in the game yesterday, asshole. I know all about you and your little crush.”

_For Pete’s sake_. “Right, well, that’s embarrassin’. But we’re not datin’, I didn’t get a chance to talk to her after the game. You should know this. You were there. Plus, Phas,” Ben grunted, “Come on. As if I wouldn’t fuckin’ tell you if I were dating Rey Johnson. I’d tell the whole world if I were. Where is this coming from?”

Phasma was quiet for a beat, “Are you being honest?”

“No, I’m fuckin’ lying to you,” he said, moving to sit on the side of the bed. Bessie came out of the bathroom then, wearing the red dress that got her in this room from the night before. She waved him goodbye, no smile, no nothin’ and left. 

_Guess that’s that then_ , he thought. Sometimes he felt like a glorified dildo after these hookups but he kept forgetting how shitty it was until he was feeling it again. 

“Goddamn it,” Phas said, “fucking Hux.”

Ben stretched his arm over his back. His shoulders were sore. He took a beating at the playoffs and his body kept making him remember that he wasn’t 22 anymore. “Is this about the press conference? Because he didn’t really say anythin’. He was just fuckin’ around.”

“Yeah, well I’ve told him time and time again not to fuck around in front of the press. You morons make my life so difficult. Whatever, I’ll fix this. Where are you?”

He looked around and felt like an asshole doing it. This room was ridiculous. All dark marble and jade. He hated it. “Vegas.”

“Goddamn fucking Armitage Hux. Wex! Get me Mitaka on the phone!” Phasma was barking orders at her assistant, and Ben stood up to stand in front of the floor to ceiling windows. It was noon, and the punishing Nevada sun was beating down. For a moment, he just watched the city roll on by, watched as the cars moved down the lanes, as tourists flocked the streets. _None of these people have any idea that I’m standing over them right now buck naked_ , he thought, and then, _Every single one of these people thinks I’m dating Rey Johnson._

He couldn’t help it, he just started to smile. Fuckin’ Hux. 

Phasma’s voice rang clear through his head, “Ben? You there?”

He turned away from the view, “Yup.”

“You going home to DC or to Houston?”

“Houston. Tomorrow?”

“Alright. I’ll have Mitaka meet you at the airport. Don’t you fucking dare speak to anyone from the media until this blows over.”

“You got it, ma’am.”

* * *

  
  


Rey Johnson could bend over backward trying to explain why she liked what she liked. 

She could blame her childhood in an overrun London orphanage. She could say she had abandonment issues. She could be like, “I never had a Dad, and I had to take care of myself at a pretty early age. So, I went and dated a guy twice my age and hoped to Jesus God he let me call him Daddy.” But she doesn’t. She doesn’t really think it’s that deep, anyway. Maybe she’s just kinky.

“It’s pretty in vogue nowadays, anyway,” Poe told her over lunch at The Kantina, the vegan place they liked at Melrose. It was always just erring on the side of too crowded but they went there enough times that the waiters knew to seat them at the alfresco area in the back, where Rey could smoke her cigarettes in peace, separate from people who wanted to interrupt her avocado toast vibes by asking for selfies. “Plus, I can’t kink shame anybody. I let Finn stick a cucumber up my ass the other day.”

“I didn’t need to know that, but thank you,” Rey said.

“I’m just saying, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, bug. Especially in this town. For all we know, it’s probably true that Brad Pitt goes to that dungeon bar at Silver Lake with Lena Dunham.”

In the middle of lighting another Marlboro Red, her second since they took their usual table, Rey wondered how the conversation got here and briefly considered if she should steer it back to Poe’s new album. Poe began as a folk singer in Tennessee, but Holdo had found him through his Youtube channel. 

“Is the cucumber incident going to make it into a song? Should I expect Cucumber Sugar on the radio sometime next year?”

“You never know,” he flashed her a charming smile. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

Poe liked to pretend he was so carefree, but Rey knew better.

It was tough to be an openly gay basketball player, but it must be a lot tougher dating one. A Laker, no less. Finn explained to her once, “We’ve come a long way with tolerance, but better not to upset the Bible-peddling Republicans too much.”

“Ah, you and me Poe. We’re in the same boat,” she said.

“What, with the obvious Daddy issues?”

“Well, yes, but you know. You know what I mean.”

“I do know. But there’s someone for everyone, I believe that.” He took a sip from his nearly-finished Bloody Mary, “I know what it feels like to hide who you are to be accepted, I know that better than anyone. But then I met Finn, and well. There’s someone for everyone. Pretty soon, you wouldn’t have to hide anymore either.”

“Here’s to hoping,” she raised her own glass.

“Or,” he smirked, “you could just fish around. I’ve heard by the time you get to Husband Number 3, it’s all calm seas.”

Rey began to laugh. “I can’t even find a person who wants to date me, Poe. I’ve had exactly one boyfriend. A husband is a beautiful dream.”

“You straights complicate it too much is why. Plus, aren’t you dating Ben Solo?”

Rey threw her napkin at his laughing face, “Stop it, you know better.”

“Do I? I’ve watched the video.”

“And? I saw it too,” she remembered just how vicious Solo’s eyes were looking at The Arm. How are people mistaking that for love? Or, as UsWeekly put it, lust? “I think people are reading into it too much.”

“Eh, maybe. You know, I’ve heard things about Ben Solo.”

“Everyone has heard things about Ben Solo, it seems,” she commented. She has never heard that name said in her general vicinity so many times as she did in the past two days. 

“Discreet guy, but you know this town. Heard he likes his brothels, that one.”

Rey’s jaw dropped. “Now _that_ I haven’t heard before. Brothels? I thought he had a big dick?”

Poe began to laugh, “Makes you think. If it’s so big, then why does he have to pay to get laid?”

She was outraged, and a little bit intrigued. Given that she was in her own storm of false rumors, she had no doubt that it was probably fallacious. But God, she thought, the shit people came up with. “Is that even true? Where did you hear that?”

“Around,” Poe shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Prostitutes, can you believe it? These basketball players. Finn has all the dirt on that guy. Worships him. It’s a little worrying how obsessed he is.”

Finn’s membership to the Cult of Ben Solo was well documented, at least in their little friend group. Finn was a kid in Brooklyn when a then-22-year-old Solo shot to demigod status after leading the Rockets against the 76ers. Rey was 13 and still in London and she’d heard about him and his groundbreaking winning layup.

“Holdo gave me his phone number,” she said.

Poe let out an overdramatic gasp, “ _Really_?”

“Yeah,” Rey let out a giggle that shocked her. It occurred to her then that maybe she was a little too invested in all this Ben Solo shit. Maybe she _was_ a little interested, she could admit that to herself. She’d never had a man that beautiful even be rumored to be into her. It was flattering. Even if he had a thing for prostitutes. “What do you think? Should I call him?”

Poe pretended to think about it for a moment, placing his index finger over his mouth. “Maybe an iMessage would be a good first move. A call feels a little too forward.”

“This is a guy who, according to you, frequents brothels. Maybe forward is good.”

“Allegedly,” Poe corrected, “frequent brothels. It’s all talk. I don’t know if Finn is the most credible source.”

_This city_ , Rey thought. _What is the truth even, anymore?_

“So, he maybe is into prostitutes, he maybe has a big dick, he maybe had sex with Kylie Jenner. A call or a text?”

“I vote text. Do it now!”

“Should I?”

“Do it! What are you gonna say?” Poe reached over to swipe one of her discarded peas. 

“Hi?”

Poe affected the look that said, _Bitch_?

So, Rey was a little clueless in the dating department. _Sue me_ , she thought. She never really bothered with men until she entered RADA. And even then, the most she could do was to come to comedy shows around Bloomsbury. She had late shifts in her waitressing job, and comedy clubs stayed open until well into the night. And look where that got her. Unkar Plutt. Asshole. 

“What about? _Hi, this is Rey Johnson_ ,” Poe suggested, “ _your rumored girlfriend._ ”

Rey began to laugh. “I actually quite like that.”

She picked up her phone and began typing. “ _I’d love to meet up for coffee. I’m free on_ — Jesus, when am I free?”

“Today?”

“I have a dance class with Paige’s at 6,” she said. 

“Tomorrow?”

“No can do. I’m having lunch with Kaydel at Public.”

Poe let out a frustrated groan, “So, you’ll be free for the rest of the day tomorrow! No time like the present. If you don’t find the time, you’re never going to find out if his dick is as big as everyone says it is.”

“Fine. _I’m free tomorrow. Give me a call_?”

“Perfect. Send it.”

She did and dropped her phone in the middle of the table. For a moment, they just looked at her little blue bubble. In the back of her head, she knew she had just made an impulsive choice but it was done. _Nothing we can do now_ , she said to herself.

“What if he’s not interested?” Rey asked. 

“Insecurity doesn’t suit you, honey,” Poe said, still looking at her screen. “Plus, in the words of Tina Fey, you’re a regulation hottie.”

A minute later, Solo’s read receipt appeared. It wasn’t even a split second later that the gray replying bubble appeared.

Poe looked up and smiled. “Good, now that’s done. Let’s get the fuck outta here."

  
  


* * *

  
  


Ben doesn’t do interviews. He’s the star, the one with the shoe line, the one with the Hall of Famer father, but in his bad days, he had a short fuse which made him a nightmare on live TV. So instead, the organization sent Hux to Kimmel on Wednesday. 

“He will ask about Rey Johnson,” Phasma told him as he changed into a Gucci suit. 

Hux snorted and attempted to tuck a lock of hair that had fallen out of her severe bun behind her ear, but she swatted his hand away.

Hux was always a little flirtatious with Phasma, much to the delight of his teammates who good-naturedly referred to their publicist as “The White Witch.” Hux had an ego the size of Texas but was too shy to properly ask her out in all the years they’ve worked together. His heart wasn’t breaking, though. There wasn’t exactly a shortage of beautiful, tall blondes in Houston. 

“Say something but don’t say anything,” Phasma said, forcefully. “Should be easy for you, right?”

“I got it, love,” he said. “No need to worry.”

Phasma watched from the backstage monitors as Hux answered questions about the Finals (“Rockets will win, they have me”) and blew off rumors that he might be dating Taylor Swift (“I wish I was the reason for the teardrops on her guitar”). And then Jimmy went, “You caused a fire recently when you made a comment about Rey Johnson and your teammate, Ben Solo.”

Phasma would never admit it, but her buttcheeks clenched so hard.

“I did,” he said, and pulled an “oops” face, drawing laughs from the audience.

“And?” Jimmy pressed.

Hux shrugged and burst out laughing in the middle of it. _I have a bad feeling about this_ , Phasma thought. _F_ _ucking moron._

“And,” Hux began, “and. That was that.”

Jimmy began to laugh, “That was that?”

Hux was laughing right along with him, “Uh-huh. My publicist is backstage right now, if I say any more, she’ll cut my balls off. Oh, fuck,” he put his palm over his mouth and _god, he’s a good actor_ , “oh no.”

Beside her, Wex started laughing softly. Phasma rolled her eyes but visibly sagged with relief.

“Fucking, Hux. Thank you, Jesus,” she whispered.

* * *

  
  


Mitaka was waiting at the tarmac in George Bush Intercontinental with his G-Wagon when Ben arrived at Houston from Vegas. He was wearing an immaculate three-piece suit even under Texas heat and looked like an asshole next to Ben’s roughed up jeans.

“Bar or home, sir?” he asked.

“Home.”

Mitaka passed him the keys and off they went. His security tailed them in black town cars. The drive was thankfully short and silent. His assistant had a talent for that. 

The long driveway to the main house was lined with trees and something inside Ben that he didn’t even know was all knotted up, unlatched. He cut the AC and rolled the windows down. _Home_. 

“What’s my schedule like this week?” he asked. 

“You’re free until Saturday, sir,” Mitaka answered. They’ve been working five years together and he still called him sir. “Mr. Snoke invited you and the team for lunch at the Center. Luke already RSVP’d.”

“Fine,” he said, pulling up at the end of the driveway. His mother’s Tesla was parked there. “Practice?”

“Starts again on Monday, sir. 6 AM. I’ll be here to pick you up.”

The front door was already open. “There’s no need for that. I’ll drive myself.”

“Are you sure, sir? I can be here bright and early.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

They find Leia in the kitchen table, making notes on a document that Ben was sure he had no security clearance for. Her hair was in braids, as it always was. “Mom,” he called with a smile from the threshold.

Leia looked up and instantly threw her arms open. “Baby,” she exclaimed, grinning, “I didn’t know you were coming home so early!”

She gave him a tight hug and said, “Your Dad and I are so proud of you.”

She’d already told him that in the locker room after the game, but he never grew tired of hearing it. Especially not from her. 

“Thank you, Ma.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and bent to take the seat next to her.

“Mitaka! There are those butter cookies you love on the counter.”

His assistant smiled and moved to take the lid off the cake display. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Anything for me?” Ben asked. 

Leia smiled and patted his cheek gingerly, “I’m making dinner later. Are you staying?”

“Of course.”

Leia was beautiful when she was younger and still was but the stress of running the country and going toe-to-toe with Republicans year after year had taken its toll. She looked weathered. Dignified, but weathered. Ben asked her often when she was planning to retire, possibly to their beloved villa in Tuscany, but she always waved him off. _Strong as a horse_ , she would always say.

Ben never thought it was extraordinary that he had extraordinary parents but even he couldn’t deny that his mom was kind of a badass.

“You must be tired, honey,” she said, “you look tired.”

“A little bit,” he admitted. 

“Head on over to your place, then. Dinner’s at 7.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek and stood up.

“I’ll get your bags for you, sir,” Mitaka said with a mouthful of cookies. He had crumbs all over his tie. Ben couldn’t help but chuckle at him. 

He exited the main house through the kitchen back door. It was a long walk to his place, but he didn’t mind. It was quiet at home, he always liked that. He was pushing 30 and couldn’t even begin to think that it was time to move out, not when living here was an option. 

Han had built their house from the ground up back when he was still in his first contract with the Rockets back in the late ‘70s. He’d bought nearly 2 acres of land at a cul-de-sac at Shady Hollow Street in Tanglewood and together with his teammate at that time, Luke Skywalker, began construction of a Colonial-style amidst tall Mexican Fan Palms. He had put in four columns in the face like “them ones in the White House.” Built a court and a pool in the backyard. After a couple of years, he made a project out of building a fairly large guest house a good distance away from the main house. It had columns too. 

When he was in his cups, Han would say his house was half the reason he got Leia to marry him. 

When the time came for Ben to get his own place, he was stumped. He wasn’t a fan of the modern styles, all sharp corners, and concrete. He liked wood, and couldn’t find enough of it in McMansions. Plus, he liked to run across their lot in the mornings. There wasn’t any place to run in any of the houses he had looked at.

“What are you, a gazelle?” Luke asked him at that time.

After a couple of months, he just gave up on looking.

“Why don’t you take the guest house, kid?” Han had told him on his 24th birthday. He already had an NBA championship ring and still lived with his parents. “It’s not like the old days no more, no one’s coming round to stay after ragers. It’s just sitting there, empty. You could fix it up how you like, and you could have some privacy.”

Ben didn’t even think twice before saying yes.

He was standing on the porch of that same house when his phone pinged in his pocket. He had half the mind to ignore it, but no one ever texted him except his father and the GT wasn’t in the driveway.

When he opened it up, it was from an unknown number. 

_Hi, this is Rey Johnson, your rumored girlfriend._ _I’d love to meet up for coffee. I’m free tomorrow. Give me a call?_

Just for a moment, Ben couldn’t move. _Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit_ , he thought. And then he started typing a reply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to formally apologize to Riley Keough. I love you, but it needed to be done.


	3. Impulsivity and Idiocy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hit her then.
> 
> She did know — it was that photo of him from that night at the game. Him in his uniform, hands on his knees. Rey kept seeing it over and over, everywhere. She saw it on her Twitter feed, she saw it on her Instagram Explore page, people used it on the banners of articles where her name appeared next to his in 100-word fluff pieces that kept insisting something was going on between them behind the scenes. 
> 
> He looked like an absolute brute in it. Predatory and focused and strong and self-assured and angry and filthy and sweating.
> 
> He looked. Well. Like Daddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For real, what is this unbeta-d nonsense?

Paige canceled the class when she’d heard what Rey had done. Poe had told Finn who told Rose who told, of course, everyone else. It was the way things worked in their little friend group.

When the older Tico sister opened the door to her studio, she had an outraged look on her face, and a laughing Rose behind her. Paige was only a few years older than Rey but always treated her like a younger sister too. It speaks to just how much Rey wanted a family that she let her. “This is a nightmare. Why would you do this to yourself?” she asked.

“Hello to you too,” Rey kissed her on the cheek and slipped out of her trainers. 

Paige’s studio always smelled vaguely of sweat and lavender. There were shoes strewn about near the door. Mirrors covered the walls. A very red, very large sign that bore the studio’s name hung on the back wall. It was crooked, but Rey liked that.

In the middle of the room, Zori and Jyn were on their backs, laying on the maple floors. They had their workout gear on but seemed content to put leisure in athleisure as they shared a fat blunt. Zori, who was older than everyone else in the group at 37, waved at Rey behind a thick cloud of smoke. Her hair, as always, looked spectacular. She was a hairdresser in the salon across the street.

“Heard you’ve been naughty, my love” Jyn said. She worked in prosthetics. That’s how they met. Rey had introduced her to the group after they bonded over their shared British-ness on the set of a period drama that required Rey to have a large nose.

“I swear on my mother’s grave,” Paige began. Paige always started her sentences with hyperboles, which always made Rey chuckle, “I’ve never known a more impulsive person in my life. How did you even get Ben Solo’s number?”

“Ami,” Rose answered for her, ambling towards Zori, who handed her the blunt. “Of course, it’s Ami.”

“Look, I—” Rey wanted to explain, but realized as she looked at the faces of her closest girlfriends, she truly had no explanation. She knew what she did might have been a mistake. In fact, she was so terrified of the consequences of her little text that she hadn’t checked her phone since leaving the restaurant with Poe. It had vibrated exactly seven times since she put it in her purse. She’d kept track. She sighed as she joined the rest of the girls on the floor. “I didn’t know what I was thinking.”

_ Didn’t I? _ she asked herself.

“It’s Poe,” Zori said, “we can blame him for this. He’s like an amplifier for bad decisions. He once convinced me it was a good idea to have sex with him. Look where that got me.”

Jyn was laughing when she asked, “Where did it get you?”

“Nowhere.”

Paige huffed, rolling her eyes at the group’s snorting, unladylike laughter. “I have no idea how you’re gonna get yourself out of this,” she said. Hyperboles. She loved them. “This is exactly that one time that you went and got a tattoo —”

“— of the goddamn tiger,” Jyn supplied. Her eyes were completely blood shoot. Rey had no idea how she was speaking in full sentences and thought it might be a good idea to join the party. She reached her fingers towards Rose, who passed her the stick with a smile and a wink. “Right in the ass too. My love, I think that was truly one of your best moments.”

“One of? It was the greatest moment of my life.” Rey said, jokingly. She had deep, deep regrets about that tattoo but she had been drinking with Poe and Rose that night, and…she was a Leo. She thought it was appropriate. At that time, at least.

She took a deep drag off the blunt and handed it to Paige, who shook her hands to decline. Jyn took it off her hands.

“It’s a text,” Zori said, “everyone,” she meant Paige, “is making too big a deal out of it.”

“I second this motion,” Rose added, leaning her head against Rey’s shoulder. “What’s the worst that could happen truly? That she sleeps with Ben Solo? Who doesn’t want to sleep with Ben Solo? Or, on the other end. That he ignores her?” Rose looked up at Rey and asked, “Would you mind if he ignored you?”

Rose’s breath smelled of peanuts and weed but Rey loved her too much to call her out on it. Instead, she answered, “I guess.”

“You like him?” Jyn asked, kindly.

“I don’t know,” Rey answered, honestly. “I don’t really know why I texted him either. I suppose I was curious, and I don’t know. He’s quite hot.”

“So hot,” Zori sat up on her elbows as she said this. “I say go for it. What have you got to lose?”

Paige threw her hands up in the air, clearly outvoted but not hating it as much as she looked like she did. “Well, did he at least text you back?”

“I don’t know that either,” Rey laughed, finally feeling the weed and self-awareness hit her. “I realized what I did in the drive over, how impulsive and misguided I’d acted, and couldn’t bear to look at my phone. I didn’t know what I was thinking.”

It hit her then.

She did know — it was that photo of him from that night at the game. Him in his uniform, hands on his knees. Rey kept seeing it over and over,  _ everywhere _ . She saw it on her Twitter feed, she saw it on her Instagram Explore page, people used it on the banners of articles where her name appeared next to his in 100-word fluff pieces that kept insisting something was going on between them behind the scenes. 

He looked like an absolute brute in it. Predatory and focused and strong and self-assured and angry and filthy and sweating.

He looked. Well. Like  _ Daddy _ . That word kept her up at night, and occasionally made panties damp at inappropriate events, and was consistently instrumental in making her cum. Unkar treated that word as a joke, as he did everything else. He thought she was a weirdo when she first brought it up, and then had the audacity to say it jokingly to her while in bed.  _ Let Daddy make you feel good _ , he had said. Even that made her cum.

And Ben Solo in  _ that  _ photo. He looked like the kind of man who wouldn’t say it as a joke.

Rey didn’t know why she texted him, but she also  _ knew _ why she texted him.

It took Rey a minute to realize Rose’s head was off her shoulder and that she had retrieved her phone from her purse. Rey and Rose had no concept of personal space. She rummaged through Rey’s mess for a few minutes before finding her brand new iPhone under an open bag of toiletries. “You have two text messages and a few missed calls from Ami.”

Rey took the phone, and without thinking about it, swiped the notification open.

And there it was.

“What did he say, my love?” Jyn asked.

Rose, who was peering over Rey’s shoulder, began to laugh.

“Your rumored lusty affair doesn’t do coffee shops,” Rey read his text on the blue bubble, “Let’s get dinner instead. I know a place.”

Beneath that text was an address in Laughlin Park. _ See you there at 7? _

“Boy knows exactly what he’s doing,” Rose said, still laughing.

“What do you mean?” Rey was genuinely clueless but had an inkling it was somehow related to sex.

Even Paige snorted at that, “Oh, you sweet summer child. Babe, he probably has a house at Laughlin Park. He wants to fuck you.”

Rey gulped. This was getting very real, very fast, was her first thought.  _ Daddy wants to play _ , was her second, which brought her not just excitement but real distress that she was getting that excited over the thought of Ben Solo touching her body.

“Do you want to have sex with him?” Jyn looked genuinely concerned.

Rey thought about lying for a second but decided against it. “Hmm, yes.”

“Aha!” Rose exclaimed. “I knew it.”

“That changes things,” Paige was grinning now. Rey smiled at her friend for being such a drama queen. She’d said it before, but Paige really should have gone into acting instead of choreography.

Zori groaned and shimmied. “You lucky bitch. I’d do anything for a date with Ben Solo.”

“Hollywood gossip,” Jyn remarked. “Who knew it could be such an aphrodisiac?”

Who knew indeed, Rey thought.

At that, Zori began telling the story of that one time she talked to Richard Madden at a yogurt shop and he asked for her number which led to Paige remarking that in all the years she’s been in LA, she’s only ever seen Reese Witherspoon, which led to Jyn telling her story of getting hit on by Jake Gyllenhaal at an art gallery opening.

“I’m still calling bullshit on that one,” Rose said.

This then led to Jyn accusing Rose of trying to hit on Jake Gyllenhaal at a party a few years ago, which Rose denied. And on and on it went, an endless parade of stories about Hollywood’s biggest stars and all the times five girls who didn’t grow up in Hollywood had met them.

Rey couldn’t believe it was her life. Rey couldn’t believe any of it was happening.

Rey couldn’t believe she scored a date with Ben Solo. She looked at her phone again as Zori told the story of  _ god, remember that time I saw Nick Jonas  _ and began typing a reply. Once again, without really giving much thought to it.

_ I like pasta. See you then, Ben.  _

* * *

“Stay right there!”

Mitaka froze on the steps of Ben’s house, holding a suitcase in each hand. “Sir?”

Ben was still standing by his large front door, jacket half-way off his large frame, holding his keys in his hands. His heart was beating way too fast and he wasn’t sure if he couldn’t breath or if he just wasn’t breathing. He spent about ten minutes staring at the message he sent Rey,  _ his rumored girlfriend _ ,  _ goddamn if that isn’t funny _ , just unable to believe what was happening in his life, and then spent another ten minutes overthinking his stupid, stupid reply  _ why didn’t I workshop that before I sent it? Should have waited for thirty more minutes and pretended I had a life — _

“I’m goin’ to LA,” Ben announced, sounding breathless. But then he squared up. He removed his jacket completely and tossed it to the ugly brown leather couch that came with the house. Everything in his house came with the house. “Call Hux, tell him I’m borrowing his house for the weekend. If he says no, remind him he owes me.”

Ben didn’t even call his teammate to ask if the house was in Los Angeles was free but given that he started this whole mess, Ben knew he’d make some exceptions for him. Plus, Hux was never in Los Angeles.

“Sir, I’m afraid I —” Mitaka was saying, but Ben wasn’t very interested in what he had to say. He sprinted to his bedroom and headed straight to his closet. He ripped a duffel bag off a shelf and began shoving things in it, underwear, a sweater, a few of his good shirts, and some fresh pants. The great thing about only ever wearing one color was that he knew everything would go together. He also packed his fancy-schmancy Louboutin wingtips because Rey deserves only the best.

With that thought, he realized he was grinning like a madman and that his hands were shaking.

He shoved his face inside his bag and let out a victorious scream.

“Sir, are you having a mental breakdown?” Mitaka was standing behind him, looking frightened. “Because we have people for that.”

Ben was so elated that it failed to dawn on him until then that he wasn’t some random boy taking a girl out to a random date. He was a public figure taking out another public figure on a date while the entire world had their eyes on them.

Right.  _ Fill people in. _

“It’s Rey Johnson,” he said, “I have a date with her. A date! What the fuck. And I know I really shouldn’t take the company jet unless it’s completely necessary so…Hux has a landing pad, right? I’ll take the plane.”

It was parked out in the open beside their basketball court. Han had turned into a real avid pilot after his retirement and attended most of his flying lessons with his son. Because they were both overfed, overpaid basketball players, they thought buying a plane was a great idea.

And so. They had an Eclipse 550 sitting in the backyard.

It took Ben a minute to realize his assistant looked happy for him. “Great news, sir. Shall I inform Gwen?”

“Oh, right. Phas. Do you think that’s the right move?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll give her a call in a minute and. Also. Let me just,” Mitaka reached over and took the bag he was packing from him. He proceeded to place it in the wooden island counters that housed his watches and ties, and take out every item Ben had haphazardly shoved in it. “take that from you. I’ll do the packing.”

Ben took a deep breath. He was acting like an absolute crazy person. He ran a hand through his hair and realized it was greasy. He made a mental note to shower before meeting the girl of his dreams.

Because Rey was that. He had been dreaming about her for two years. Watchin’ her movies, keepin’ up whenever she was on the news, followin’ her on social media. Not to mention the things he’s thought of doing to her which always made him feel like a fucking creep. Fucking disgusting, sexually depraved, 12 years her senior creep.

She was a movie star, and while he has yes, dated one or two movie stars before, well.  _ Somethin’ about her _ was just. Ben sighed. There was a vulnerability in her eyes, in her demeanor.

He had  _ a thing _ for her and he could have, theoretically, found a way to meet her in the past few years. Ben knew, in a way, that he was a big deal. He was one of the highest paid actors in his sport. He appeared in cereal cartons like his father before him. Reporters lined the hallways outside of their locker rooms just for five minutes with him. Women looked at him like a cross between a demi god and a cash cow. He could have found a way to meet her.

He, frankly speaking, just never had the balls to do it.

Rey Johnson was The Girl in The Heist Movie. He sat captivated by her when she was blown up in a theater screen, saying lines some else wrote. He wouldn’t know how to act if she ever sat at a table across from him.

Which she said she would do. Tomorrow. At 7 PM.

“ _God,_ ” Ben could feel his familiar friend, anxiety, rising up from the base of his back. “What am I doin’?”

“Sir,” Mitaka was folding a shirt. The black looked stark on his bony fingers. “If I may speak candidly?”

Mitaka occasionally did this whenever Ben was having…whatever it was that he was having right now. Ben knew he didn’t really need his permission.

“You’ve got to calm down,” he said, evenly. “She’s just a girl. You’re going to cook dinner, impress her with your Southern charm, and then hopefully get another date. You’ve historically been very great at dates.”

“Except for —”

“Bazine Netal just caught you in an off day, sir. And the throwing of the soup was a little dramatic on her part. You’ll do fine.”

You’ll do fine, Ben repeated to himself and willed his heart to calm down as his assistant said. It didn’t follow his command. Probably couldn’t. His heart was already a goner for Rey Johnson, which was ridiculous because he didn’t even know her, not really, not in any way that counts. She was a crush, she was a crush,  _ she was just a crush and you’ll do fine _ .

“You’re right,” Ben said, moving to take his shirt off as he moved into the en suite. “You’re right, I’ll be fine. It’s just a girl. It’s just a date. I’ll be fine.”

* * *

The shower calmed Ben down plenty.

Steam followed him out of the shower stall. He felt refreshed and like himself again, not some high school kid freaking out about a hot date. He stepped in front of the mirror in front of the sink to shave off the facial hair that he had let go crazy in the past few weeks.

His razor was on the bare countertop, just where he left it the last time he was home. He just got there, and he was leaving again but a date with Rey Johnson seemed like a good enough reason to forgo his usual post-big game hermit-like existence. After taking care of business, he changed into jeans and a knit sweater that was way too hot for Houston but was his standard flying outfit. 

The bag Mitaka had been packing was gone, presumably already in the plane.

He swiped a few condoms off his nightstand before he left his room. Optimistic was a word not often used to describe Ben, but he knew better than to leave things up to chance or goodwill. Even though Rey was the girl of his dreams, she was still a stranger. Ben learned very early in his career not to trust strangers to take care of the protection.

Maybe he was a piece of shit for thinking everyone was out to get him, but more often than not, everyone  _ was _ out to get him. That was one of the things he remembered during his steaming hot shower.

He stuffed the condoms in his pocket.

Downstairs, he found his father sitting on the brown couch.

“Dad,” he gave his old man a big hug, “I didn’t see you earlier.”

“Mom sent me out to get carrots,” Han explained. He had a smile on his face that only his son coaxed out of him. “Mitaka told me where you’re headed. Rey Johnson, huh? Finally took the leap.”

“Yeah,” Ben blushed, embarrassed at how proud his father looked. “Hope mom won’t hate me for missin’ dinner.”

“If you come back with a girlfriend, she won’t.”

Ben hadn’t brought home a girlfriend since he was in college. It has been a sore spot for Leia ever since but he couldn’t very well tell her that he hadn’t had a girlfriend since college. That was a sore spot for him.

“Dad,” Ben warned, “and by the way, I didn’t take none of the leaps.  _ She _ did.”

Han chuckled as Ben walked him out. Ben slowed his steps to match his father’s. Han’s knees had been a problem for years, but in the past few months, there are days he was findin’ it hard to walk at all. Stubborn as a cow, he insisted on not seeing a doctor which Luke constantly scolded him about.

“Don’t bother tellin’ me the story,” Han said, “I don’t want to know nothin’ til it ends. Works better that way.”

“Pray for a good endin’?” Ben asked as they made their way down the porch steps and to the Eclipse.

“Always, son.”

Han helped him with checks. Just before he entered the cockpit, Mitaka told him Phasma had been informed (she wasn't happy), Hux had his housekeeper stock the LA house with food (he was also unhappy), and that he had arranged for a car to be waiting for Ben when he arrived at LAX. 

They stood side-by-side to wave him goodbye as he made it to the sky and headed to Los Angeles, where his future was waiting.

* * *

On Thursday morning, Rey woke up thinking about Sylvia Plath and didn’t get to thinking about Ben Solo until she’s had her morning coffee.

The day of their date has arrived, and she was surprisingly not all that worried about it. _Not at all._ Perhaps she was just operating on some false sense of confidence but she’s been fed all sorts of lines about how Ben Solo wanted to do bad things to her not just by her friends but also by almost all of the internet. She thought of him sort of as a done deal. She wasn't nervous, at all. He was just a boy, albeit a very large one, that she was going to have dinner with and maybe have some fun with. By the end of the night, she was going to drive away in her own car back to her place, all alone, and never think of him again.

Jyn asked her to prepare for that.

“These basketball players,” she said, “you know how they are.”

Rey lived in Hollywood and knew a lot about the Kardashians. Rey  _ knew _ about basketball players so she adjusted her expectations accordingly, no matter how disappointing the process might have been. With Unkar, she didn't even have the balls to open up about her little kink until six months into their relationship. She wasn't going to ask Ben Solo if she could call him Daddy within six hours of meeting him, let alone two. _Maybe I could just say it in my head_ , she thought.

Whatever. She wasn't thinking about Ben Solo and she wasn’t going to think of Ben Solo until she absolutely had to, and so she didn’t.

Rey thought about Sylvia Plath instead. As Rey ate her breakfast out in her backyard’s patio, she browsed through Sylvia's Collected Poems and nearly choked on her Fruit Loops when she saw a poem with the title  _ Daddy. _

It was like the universe was playing a joke on her.

She read it and nearly cried in relief that she and Sylvia Plath had very different, although very similarly fucked up associations with that word. Sylvia was going to be a good role to sink her teeth into. She already knew that after reading the script but if it were possible, she knew it even better then.  Sylvia was nothing like her, and what a gift that was. 

Rey loved a challenge. 

She said those exact words to Kaydel over some overpriced burgers.

“Fantastic,” Kaydel said, clapping enthusiastically. They’d already met once before, at a party in Hollywood Hills. Rey remembered her as “the kind director with the legendary last name.” She was the daughter of Francisco Ko Connix, one of the industry’s most beloved directors from the ‘70s. With three Oscar noms under her belt, two of which she won, there was no doubt that she was indeed a powerhouse and her father’s daughter. “I knew you’d love this script. I just knew it. The minute I read it, I thought it should go to you. Especially after I saw you on  _ Moon Child _ . I thought, there’s my Sylvia.”

“That means a lot to me, Kaydel, thank you,” Rey said, meaning it even though she hated  _ Moon Child _ herself and thought it was one of her worst performances.

“I’m so glad you’ve agreed to this. I’ll have my people send your people all the not-so-fun stuff,” Kaydel meant contracts and legal documents and payment agreements, which Rey agreed, was truly the not-so-fun stuff, “and we’ll talk more once we hammer everything out. Sound good?”

On her way back to her house, Rey basked in the warm glow of _ having work _ . She still sometimes couldn’t believe that she kept  _ getting work _ . Holdo’s call came as she pulled in the driveway, “Congratulations, kiddo! This is going to be big. You want to celebrate tonight?”

“Oh, I’d love to, but I have plans,” Rey told her.

“You never have plans,” Holdo said, sounding amused.

“I actually do tonight. I decided to take your advice.”

“I give you advice all the time, which one of them did you take?”

“The one about Ben Solo.”

Holdo laugh was music to Rey’s ears.

Rey spent all day not thinking about Ben Solo, but as 5:30 hit and she decided it was time to start getting ready for their date, he and all the possibility he represented was all she could think about. She had to keep reminding herself to be braced for disappointment.

By the time 6:30 rolled around, she was glammed up, her face was done, her hair was done, and she was wearing an off-shoulder mini dress that, as Rose described it, was “the right kind of slutty.” She knew she looked like a dream and decided that if there was ever a time to be truly confident, it was on the night she was going to possibly hook up with one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen, one of the most attractive men the world has ever seen. 

Zori was right. She _was_ a lucky bitch. 

Plus, at the very least, she was going to eat some pasta.

That, if nothing else happened, and certainly if _the thing_ she wanted to happen didn't happen, was something to be happy about.

She strutted out of her house and drove to Laughlin Park positively vibrating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening lol


End file.
